Conflicting Desire
by HedgieX
Summary: Gill's wedding day nerves are made worse when a drunken Dave bursts into the church. Chris starts to question whether Gill has really moved on from her ex, and to complicate things further, Julie chooses the wrong moment to share a deeply intimate secret with her friend. Gill feels as though her life, both at work and home, is falling apart, but can she ever move on from the past?
1. Chapter 1

Conflicting Desire

Gill let the toilet lid slam. She sat down on the edge of the bath and hugged herself, taking deep breaths, like her mother had always taught her to do when she was nervous.

Julie knocked on the door again, "You alright, fat arsed bitch?"

"I may have many things, but a fat arse isn't one of them."

"My mistake. I remember now, actually – your arse is tight, isn't it? Very bony. Nice and smooth, though. Bit Pippa Middleton-like, actually. At least the wedding photos from_ behind_ will look good."

Gill tried to laugh, but it came out as a groan.

"No, really, Gill. You alright?"

"I'm shitting myself."

"Not literally, I hope."

She hugged herself tighter, then stopped, because her fingernails were making raw indents in her bare arms. Her nails were painted white today, but some of the paint had smudged down her fingers because she'd been shaking when she'd done them.

She stood up and spun around experimentally, observing herself in the bathroom mirror. Julie was wrong: her arse looked stupid, draped in creamy white frills. But no more stupid than everything else. Her hair was frizzy from the rain; her cheeks were as pale as her nail paint.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Julie asked softly from outside the door, "I know it's hard, what with Dave being an arse about it, and..."

"No. I want to marry him. I love him."

"That's good."

"I don't give a damn what Captain Underpants thinks," Gill said haughtily, but her voice shook. Of course she cared. For ten years, she'd put up with him sleeping around because she adored him, couldn't help herself even when he treated her like something on the bottom of his shoe. She hated him, yes, but she still cared.

"Of course," Julie agreed soothingly, "Sammy texted; he said he and Orla got to the church at one o'clock, and he's now blaming me for telling him the wrong time."

"Sometimes I wonder if he's really my son."

"Oh, he's definitely your son. He says the flowers look nice."

Gill tucked a strand of her fringe behind her ear. Her son would look lovely, she was sure, and of course Orla was beautiful. She was proud of both of them; she wondered if they were proud of her.

And then she wondered why the hell she was allowing herself to get all sentimental. _Get yourself together, woman._

Julie seemed to be thinking the same. "Come on, Gill; I need to do your make-up now. You can't hide away forever."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I can put it more eloquently, if you like. Open the bloody door."

Gill wiped her eyes, then laid her fingers on the lock and twisted it, swinging the door outwards.

Julie was sitting on the edge of the bed experimenting with a pair of straighteners, and wrinkling her nose at the wisps of smoke rising from them. When she saw Gill, she jumped up.

"What do you think?"

"Oh, Gill. You look wonderful, love."

"How sarcastic was that, on a scale of one to ten?"

"Ten," she grinned, but she reached out and took Gill's hands tenderly in hers, "I really mean it. He's going to be swept away. God, I sort of wish I was the one marrying you now."

"Piss off."

XxXxX

"Hello," Chris said softly to Gill.

Mitch, who had proudly led her up the aisle in place of her father, kissed her cheek and pressed her sweaty hand into Chris's. He crossed the church and sat down between Pete and Kevin, who were fighting over a service sheet.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you. So do you."

He laughed. She loved his laugh.

"Handsome, I mean," she gave him a gentle shove, then nestled her head against his arm. She'd been frightened for weeks about how stupid they'd look; he was tall and young and slender, whereas she was the complete opposite. But none of that mattered right now.

Rachel wolf-whistled, "Save it for after the wedding."

Janet, Rachel and Julie sat in the row behind Lee, Pete, Kevin and Mitch. They all wore delicate lilac bridesmaid dresses, and carried little bunches of purple roses; Rachel, although her marriage to Sean had been incredibly low-key, had wanted her boss's wedding to be perfect, just to show her how much they all appreciated what she did for them.

On the other side of the church, Sammy looked slightly uncomfortable in his suit and tie, but Orla looked graceful by his side. Gill looked to Orla almost as an adopted daughter; the girl didn't have parents to speak of, and she and Gill had grown close over time. She was friendly and funny and modest, and she loved Sammy in a way Gill suspected Dave had never loved her.

Perhaps Chris could repair that now, though.

"I, Christopher Andrew Latham, take you, Gillian Victoria Murray, to be my wife."

All of this was a blur to Gill. She repeated the words after the vicar, and she heard Chris do the same, but she wasn't really listening.

"Until death do us part," Chris said, and he reached out and squeezed her fingers – like Julie had done earlier – because those words were more significant to them that to most people. They dealt with a lot of death; they knew how it tore lives apart.

"Until death do us part," she echoed.

"If any of you know any reason in law why these two people may not marry each other," the vicar waved his hands to either side, addressing the audience, "You are to decl-"

The door at the back of the church burst open as, and Dave Murray stepped inside. The entire room tensed; Janet and Rachel exchanged incredulous glances, and Sammy's eyes lit up with anger.

If it hadn't been for Chris's arm around her waist, Gill thought she would've crumbled to the floor.

XxXxX


	2. Chapter 2

**Loved all the fangirling today ;-)**

**If anyone hasn't already, you should all go and read the last chapter of 'What's Done is Done' by **_**melissarrrxoxo**_ **because it's beautiful and actually made me properly cry (which doesn't happen), and also 'Setting the Date' by **_**GirlonaBridge**_**, because her one-shots are amazing.**

**Anyway, enough blabbering: enjoy...**

Chapter Two – Conflicting Desires

"What the hell does he want?" Chris asked.

Gill gave a weak shrug, supposing that was a rhetorical question. She thought it was pretty obvious. He wanted to ruin her life and her happiness; he wanted to be absolutely certain that she could never move on.

The vicar finished his sentence softly, "Declare it now."

Dave walked – no, stumbled – up the aisle towards them. Pete and Lee stood up, but he pushed past them, his eyes locked onto Gill, "Don't do...don't-do this. You're m-making a big... a big mistake."

"He's drunk," Kevin told everyone.

"No shit, Sherlock," Rachel said, then realised _she_ was Sherlock. Janet and Julie were frozen on either side of her, watching Gill as she clung to Chris, their faces shocked, but Rachel actually found the whole thing quite funny, even if she did pity her boss. Trust Gill to have a complicated wedding, to go with her complicated life.

Someone else walked up the aisle towards the huddle of people gathered around the altar, "Dave, don't do this."

Andy had come back for Gill's wedding. At first he'd been very angry with Gill for sending him to a different syndicate, but she'd always known her team very well, and she'd acted in his best interests. He understood that now – he was a DI now, working his way up to DCI, and it was down to her.

"It's her wedding day. She's happy; can't you see that? You already ruined her life once; don't do it again."

"I never st- never stopped... I always loved her. I made a mistake. She'll be... she'll be making a mistake, if she marries... marries _him_."

"_Him_?" Chris snarled.

Gill let go of her soon-to-be husband and leant against the altar instead. He was scaring her; he was shaking with anger, his voice filled with malice. She'd never seen this side to him – he'd always been a perfect gentleman towards her and towards everyone else he met.

Everyone had a hidden side, didn't they?

"What's going on?" the vicar asked quietly.

Pete shook his head, "I wish I knew."

"Can we take this outside?" Andy asked them, a restraining hand still on Dave's shoulder. _Stupid, stupid man._

He'd been an arse for a long, long time, and now he was paying for it; his son was attempting to cut ties with him altogether, his ex-wife was moving on with her life, and his colleagues had finally seen how much of a bastard he was, and were treating him like shit.

"No, we _cannot_ 'take this outside'," Dave snapped, mocking Andy's suggestion by imitating his calm tone, "Everyone... everyone needs to hear this."

"I don't think they do."

"Look what you're doing to her," Chris took an aggressive step forwards towards Dave, pointing to Gill, who was leaning heavily against the altar, her cheeks pale and her eyes filled with confusion, "If you loved her – which you don't, because you wouldn't have done what you did if you loved her – you'd leave now, and just let her be with someone who will treat her like she deserves to be treated."

"It's not worth it," Lee told Chris.

"Oh, I think it would be."

Gill seemed to regain a little of her strength. She took Chris's hand in hers, pulled him away. He wrapped his arm around her, calming down at her presence.

"She doesn't... she doesn't love you."

"Of course I love him, Dave," she said coolly, "I'm marrying him."

"To get b-back... back at me."

"You're wrong. I'm sorry, but I stopped looking for your approval a long time ago. I don't care what you think any more. You fucked it up, Dave; you really fucked everything up."

The vicar's eyes widened.

"You're... you're a bitch, Gill. You're heartless, you're c-cold. You just care... you care about your job, and you... you don't care about anything else, you just care about your job, and..." his breath filled the church with the stench of stale alcohol, "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm just trying to get on with my life."

"Really?" he ran a hand through his greying hair dementedly, his eyes scanning the rows and rows of shocked police officers, people who had once been his friends, people who had admired him. Not any more. "Really? Why did you... why did you sleep... sleep with me again, then?"

"Grow up, Dave."

"Yeah, you deny it."

"I did not," she told Chris. He nodded, but his arm tensed around her again, as though he wasn't entirely sure. She didn't blame him, either. She was so good at dealing with people when she was at work, but she couldn't deal with her own life, could she?

"Dad," Sammy stood up, his voice shaking, "Just leave her alone."

"I bought you a car, Sam. And you repay me by going to live with _her_?"

"She's my mum. She's always been my mum – she's always been there for me, no matter what happened. You can buy me stuff, but it's not the same. She didn't go off and sleep with loads of other people; she didn't hurt me, even though she could have, to get back at you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'm proud of her. I'm not proud of you."

"Sammy," Gill mumbled. Jesus, she did not want this to happen in front of all of these people. She did not want to cry.

"Right, okay," Andy seized Dave roughly, deciding that enough was enough, and shoved him back down the aisle and out into the sunshine. Gill and Chris followed, their fingers linked loosely; Sammy and Orla came too.

Everyone else stayed inside. Gill could just imagine what they were saying about her now, about her family. _It was supposed to be the happiest day of her life._ She touched the locket around her neck; it had been a present from her mother, as she'd lain dying in a hospital bed. She suddenly really missed her.

It sounded stupid, because they'd never really got on, and Gill hadn't even found tears to cry at her funeral, but sometimes grief crept up on you; it was triggered by something tiny, and filled you with agony and regret.

None of this would've happened if her mother had been here.

XxXxX


	3. Chapter 3

**Haven't updated for ages, you've probably all forgotten what happened in the beginning, but I sort of owe you another chapter, so here we go.**

Chapter Three – Conflicting Desire

"Dad, just go home," Sammy said, fiddling with the rose tucked in his button hole, squeezing Orla's hand, "You shouldn't do this while you're drunk; you're just going to regret it. Please, go home, and see Emma."

"Emma's dumped me."

Gill felt the tiniest pang of gladness. At last, _the whore_ had seen sense. At last, Dave was going to understand how she'd felt for all those years.

"Because she thinks you... you're an ungrateful... you're a brat," Dave spat in his son's face, his eyes bloodshot, "You've treated her... like she's... like..."

"Dave," Andy said softly, "Your son's right. I'll take you home."

"Like she's what?" Sammy demanded.

"Like she's crap."

"And you didn't treat Mum like that?"

"You have made me... I gave up so much for you, Sammy, and... this is- this is... what you do? You pretend she's the good guy?" he jerked a finger towards Gill.

He shook his head, "I don't have to pretend."

"I'm ashamed of you. I'm ashamed that- that you're my son. I wish you'd never been... been born."

Sammy moved towards his dad and punched him hard in the jaw before anyone could stop him.

"Sammy," Andy yelled, but the boy broke away from his hold and moved towards his father again. Dave pushed his son back; Sammy fell to the ground, scraping his knees along the tarmac.

"Stop it," Gill crouched down by her son, seeing his eyes fill with tears, seeing the blood on his knees. Just a little boy: _her_ little boy. "I'm sorry."

"Come on then," Dave wheezed.

Sammy jumped back up, limped towards his father, determined to have the last say. His mother had protected him for all these years: it was time he looked after her, paid his dad back for all the pain he'd caused their family.

"Don't," Orla grabbed at her boyfriend's arm.

Dave launched himself drunkenly forwards at his son, and knocked Orla flying instead of Sammy.

Andy grabbed Dave roughly by the back of his neck and bundled him away towards the car park without a backwards glance.

"Shit," Sammy was sobbing now, and not because of his grazed knees. Christ, Gill hadn't seen her son sob in years, not since Dave had come round covered in blood and beer, threatening his ex-wife and son. "Shit. Orla, oh my God, Orla."

"It's alright," Gill crouched down on the girl's other side. She lay motionless, blood dribbling down her forehead. "She'll be alright, Sammy. She's just knocked her head; she'll have a headache in the morning, but she'll be alright. I promise you."

He turned on his mum, "Since when have your promises meant anything?"

Chris was already on his phone, calling for an ambulance. Gill stood up and watched as Sammy fussed over his girlfriend, straightening her scarlet dress – like she was covered in blood – and kissing her white cheeks.

"There'll be an ambulance here in a few minutes, Sammy," Chris said, "Dave will be going straight down to the station as well; don't worry."

"I hit... I hit him first," Sammy moaned.

"We'll work it out, son."

"No, we won't, Mum. _I'll _work it out, again. I've always been the one to work it out, on my own. Dad's right; you love your work too much to give a damn about anything else."

"Sammy..."

"Maybe I'd have preferred you to sleep around too, if it meant you actually paid me some attention. Dad had a better job than you, he was always busier, but he found time to do stuff with me. And Emma, you called her all that stuff, but she was always there to make my tea, wasn't she? When was the last time_ you_ ever made my tea?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. I bet you are."

Chris wrapped his arms around Gill and held her. Her dress was dirty around the edges where she'd trampled down the muddy path; she could feel her mascara running. Suddenly, Chris's arms felt cold and uncaring, and she wanted nothing more than to be back with Dave, cuddled up in bed with Sammy in between them, without a care in the world.

She was supposed to be getting married today.

And she was fantasising about her ex-husband.

Who'd just beaten up her son's girlfriend.

Jesus Christ.

"Sammy," Orla moaned.

"It's alright, baby. You're going to be okay."

"What... what happened?"

"Just my dad being an arse."

A shadow of a smile crossed her lips, "Nothing unusual."

"Just lie still, Orla," Chris told her gently over Gill's shoulder, "There's an ambulance on its way now, just to get you checked over, okay? You've had a bit of a bump to the head, but you're going to be fine."

"Gill."

"Yeah?"

Orla held up a weak hand, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, love," Gill disentangled herself from Chris and knelt by Orla's side, "You've got nothing to be sorry for, alright? It's my fault; all of this. Don't cry, darling; you'll mess up your lovely make-up. Come on, you're absolutely fine."

"I'm scared."

"It's okay," Sammy and Gill comforted her together.

"Why are you both crying, then?"

"Like mother, like son," Sammy said shakily.

Gill reached out her spare hand and wrapped it around her son. He leant towards her, and neither of them needed to apologise. They knew.

"I love you, baby," he told Orla.

She tried to smile.

"I'll come with you both, to the hospital," Gill stroked back Orla's hair, "If you want me to."

"Would you?"

"Of course."

"Gill..."

"I'm sorry, Chris," she shook her head, "I can't do this now. Not today. They're my children – she's... I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

His stony expression as he stormed back towards the church said something entirely different. But Gill didn't have the energy to care, not now. Her family were more important than any man, and if Orla and Sammy needed her now, then everyone else would just have to put up with it.

"Your children?" Orla mumbled.

"Yeah. I'm your mum now, right? And I'm going to look after you. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not, kidda."

Orla had always been frightened of death. Her parents had been involved in a car crash when their daughter was little: her mum had died straight away, but her father had been kept alive for a few weeks, a machine forcing him to breathe, until Orla's grandma had finally let them kill him.

Since then, she'd always been alone, in a way. She could've gone off the rails – she'd certainly hung around with people into bad things – but then she'd met Sammy, and things had been okay. He made her feel special, and Gill was like the mother she'd never got to know; Orla was, very slowly, learning to love and trust people again.

She slipped back into unconsciousness with a smile on her face, with the two people who meant the most to her in the world by her side.

When you had love, did dying really matter so much?

XxXxX

**Goes without saying that I love you lot already, but reviews = more love?**

**Okay, that was a bit cheesy.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'd completely forgotten about this story. It really has been a long time since I updated this – the next time I talk about writing a new fanfiction can someone remind me that I have others to finish? I'm so uncommitted;)**

**But I just found it and realised I'd kind of left some stuff unsaid between the characters, so if anyone still cares, here we go.**

Chapter 4 | Conflicting Desire

"How are you feeling, love?" Gill asked when Orla stirred.

"Have you sat there all night? You said you'd go home. You look really tired, you–" her words got lost as she tried to sit up.

Gill plumped up her pillows and took her hand, "I'll go home when I'm sure you're okay."

The DCI wondered how much of their conversation yesterday Orla remembered. To be fair on the poor girl, she'd been half delirious; she probably didn't remember anything about the wedding, let alone something that her boyfriend's mother had said.

She looked pale, and a nice bruise had blossomed on her forehead through the night, but her eyes were bright and warm. They always were. Gill could see why Sammy loved her, and he really did; they had something special. Just the way they sat together at night after a curry, curled up watching Coronation Street, understanding each other without saying anything.

It made Gill want to cry with jealousy. She thought of the way Chris had stormed off yesterday, and then of the anger on Dave's face. _It'll be the happiest day of your life. _Yeah, pull the other one.

"Where's Sammy?"

"He'll be back in a bit."

Orla looked at her as though saying 'I'm not stupid'.

"He had to go to the station to answer some questions."

"But his dad was being–" her face clouded over momentarily. Was she worried about upsetting Gill by slagging off Dave? Gill was so far beyond that, she really was. She only cared about Sammy and Orla now. "It wasn't Sammy's fault."

"I know it wasn't. Everyone knows it wasn't. And I will do everything in my power to sort this out."

The girl nodded, and the sudden motion seemed to spark tears in her eyes. A single droplet ran down her cheek.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Gill asked. She heard her voice shaking. She never called anyone 'sweetheart' or 'love' except Sammy and Orla; the words sounded a bit hollow on her lips, but she genuinely meant them.

"I just feel bad. It ruined your wedding."

"Of course you didn't. This isn't anyone's fault except Dave's. And look, if that's how Chris feels, then quite frankly I shouldn't be marrying him."

Orla nodded. Her name meant 'golden princess'; Gill remembered looking it up once. And she was a princess, from rags to riches, a beautiful, sweet girl falling into the wrong place only to be rescued by Sammy.

"Is there something else?"

"You'll hate me."

"I won't. Come on," Gill squeezed her fingers tenderly.

"You know how you said you were like my mum now?"

"I didn't mean to upset you. I know your real mum will always be the one you remember, I just meant that I–"

"No, I like it. I like being your daughter. Being stuck with you isn't so bad," Orla smiled, then sniffed. She brought two fingers up and swiped at her cheeks impatiently. Gill wanted to find her a tissue, but couldn't move. "I haven't told Sammy. I couldn't, I can't."

"Do you want to tell me?"

"No, but– I wish it wasn't true, but it is."

Gill became aware that Orla's other hand, the one that wasn't locked in her own, rested on her stomach. She exhaled. "Oh."

"The doctor said it was okay. It hadn't been– hurt or anything. I didn't even know until a few days ago, I realised my period was late and I felt really sick and achy, so I did a test and– we didn't mean it to happen. I've been taking the pill, I don't know why it didn't work, I just–"

"Shh," Gill stroked her hair, "It's okay."

"You're not angry?"

"God, no, I'm not angry. I'm worried, but I'm not angry."

Orla's tears fell a little faster, "I'm scared. I think Sammy will want to get rid of it. I think he'll be scared too, but I tried, I thought about it, and I just don't think I can. It's inside of me. It's... please don't leave."

Gill slipped her arms into her coat, "I'll come back. I'm just going to ring Sammy; I won't tell him, but he needs to be here."

"What if he leaves me?"

Gill shook her head. She didn't want to consider that. She didn't think she could cope with frostiness between the two of them, with her trying to look after and support Orla when her son didn't want anything to do with her any more.

She didn't think it would happen, because Sammy adored Orla, and Orla adored Sammy, and they'd both be perfect parents, but God, he was going to be shocked. They were both so young, and their lives would be turned upside down. She didn't know what she could do to make it better.

"Don't hate me," Orla pleaded.

"I couldn't hate you if I wanted to, kiddo," Gill whispered, "It's going to be fine, okay, I promise, and I really do promise, it'll be okay. That little boy or girl will be the most loved kid in the world."

XxXxX


End file.
